Moth Effect
by empty ink
Summary: Distracted by the main events, people rarely pay much attention to the details. To the small things that can shape a boy. A boy who in becoming a man, must end the flare of terror before it is all anyone remembers. By resolving the moth effect.


AN: A note here, for my many fans who just don't yet know it. Here is the standard disclaimer, but I'm only doing this once. None of that crap about posting it in ever chapter: here's a blanket disclaimer. I do not own Harry Potter or its characters, I am merely playing with them for the funsies. I make no profit off of it and all that. This goes for all chapters of this story. There, done. Now, on to not-business. This is my first story here, I don't care what you review except that I do. Really this is just a thought I had, and decided to type up. I don't have an extensive plot planned out or anything, although I will start to develop some now that this story has begun.

Main characters will never have a sexual preference not canon. The M rating is for safety, as I expect I'll curse throughout the writing and some mature themes will likely be present. Whatever mature themes are. I'm writing this as I go, update as I finish. I'll do my best, but I don't have a beta. So do your best as readers and tell me if I screw up, and do complain about it. Thanks tons!

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><p>Summary: Distracted by the main events, people rarely pay much attention to the details. To the small things that can shape a boy. A boy who in becoming a man, must end the flare of terror before it is all anyone remembers. By embodying the butterfly effect, a hero will gain form. Perplexing magics are at work, within the very body of Harry Potter. As Voldemort regains his body, the peripheral changes to this tale as we know it, begin to change time ever so slightly.<p>

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><p>Falling down and skidding across the stone floor, a dull pain brutally made itself known. Too bad the philosophers stones wasn't in his <em>other<em> pocket… It would have made his trip this fall far more pleasant. Hell, he had felt the stone forcibly meet flush with the hard floor, and felt something give only to splinter into his leg. Aching legs made the process of standing difficult, but Harry managed. Spinelessly slumped forward, Harry muttered, "Dumbledore will stop you… He'll come back in time, don't think you've won Voldemort…" His voice high with youth incited a chuckle from a murderer.

"Why Harry, you'd almost think that you have a chance of surviving tonight. We'll soon dissuade you of that, child." Heavy, slow chuckling darkened, transforming into a sibilant hiss, "Now Quirrel, end the boy!" Quirrel surged forward, the adrenaline in his system visible upon his face. Reaching, hands grasped Harry's throat, lacking a distinct adam's apple. Knowledge of the young life he was intending to end reached him, but Quirrel tightened his grip. Burning through the adrenaline acting as a painkiller, his hands quickly blackened and grayed, peeling.

Gasping and choking, the forced closure of his throat, the spasming neck muscles and the air loss cast a darkening shade over his vision. Soon everything was black, and all Harry heard, was screaming.

_M.E._

"I don't understand it, and I won't pretend to, but I'll stop you Tom. With Fawkes here and Gryffindor's sword, I'll beat you here. I'll beat you everywhere, all of the you's, all of the different shards of you that exist… It's a promise." A crackle and a snap echoed in the Chamber of Secrets. An intricate knot and a simple band glowed golden on Harry's wand holding forearm. The light decreased to a weak silver glow around his right arm's middle.

The basilisk lay dead on his right, and before him stood the shadow of a darkness corrupted school child. Older than himself, but still naive in his own way. The snakebite on his arm pulsed oddly, and fire hot ice moved into his veins. Originating from his arm, Harry could feel the life slowly ebbing away. His arm bone ached in such a thorough way, no bruise or blunt trauma could match it. The bite must have hit marrow…

"You think you can defeat me, Harry _Potter_? Well, what a shame, and here I thought you were a Gryffindor with common sense. I made you what you are, I may be just a shade now, but you are MY shadow! Hard to live while in the shadow of unmitigated darkness isn't it Potter!" Twisting his wrist and throwing his hand forward, a burst of dark blue shot at Harry.

Doing his best stumble, he managed to get his center out of the curse's path, but his shoulder was struck. Instantly ice cropped his bone, spreading ever so slowly throughout his shoulder blade and collar bone. "Shyte!" The expletive helping little, Potter straightened, wary, wand forward and halfway to casting expelliarmus. Abandoning his plan, Harry leapt out of the way dodging another curse-yellow green.

Last chance, Harry thought to himself, but I can't possibly touch Riddle, his spellwork is too perfect… Think Harry, think! Okay, he said he's draining Ginny's life, that's bad, got to stop him. Thoughts racing, an idea was tentatively formed. That book-that diary, it can do things, it showed me the past, it has power. Riddle-!

Sprinting forth, Harry grabbed the discarded basilisk fang from the ground, half a foot of natural serpentine death. The burning his hand felt! Touching the stovetop of his Aunt's kitchen could never compare-was this what Quirrel had felt, as he tried to choke out his life? Venom must still be on the outside of the fang, well good. It would damage the diary quite nicely. His left leg throbbed unfamiliarly.

"No! You insolent wretch! Get away from my hor-" interrupted by a gout of ink shooting out his moth, as the substance poured from his core. "Harry, what have you… You may have ended me, but I will get you, through dream… Through life… You cannot… Hide…" Falling to his knees, Riddle lost all sense of tangibility and of visibility. The illusory ink that bled from his person faded with him, only a black puddle remained around the gored diary.

"C'mon Fawkes… We got to get Ginny… To the infirmary…" Surviving another close encounter, he stumbled on tiredly, not even registering Fawkes healing tears.

_M.E._

His happiest thought… The happiest thought, the most euphoric feeling… "Expecto Patronum!" His tenor bellow carried across the lake, moving through the dementors, eliciting a shiver from the cold, dead creatures. A magnificent stag cantered out of his hissing wand, quickly shifting into action. Made of white ether, silver streams broke off from its form, scaring the beings of terror.

Pain. Pain throughout his hand, the same hand scarred from basilisk venom was tortured anew. Harry screamed, his godfather twitched. Grasping about Harry searched the ground, "Where's my wand… my wand, it was, my hand…" Before he could locate his magical focus, Harry was found by that infuriating perceptual darkness.

_M.E._

"Harry Potter." Silence echoed in the Great Hall. Everyone present looked angry, worried or confused. Only Harry and Dumbledore's visages stood out, bearing concern.

This is bad, this is seriously not good. Bollocks, thought Harry. Bouncing bollocks raining from the sky, this was a typical bad situation. With a deep breath, making sure to straighten up and push his shoulders back, Harry answered, "I'll just go in the other room, then." Resigned, he made his way to the champions' chamber.

The scary pretty blond witch, glanced over, clearly bored. "What is it? Do zey want us back in ze hall?"

"Ah, that is, it seems the goblet of fire named me as the fourth champion," shuffling his feet, Harry tried to hold his head up.

"Eet ees joke, ha vairy funny. Leetle boy think he can, compete." Condescension never had such an upscale home as upon Fleur Delacour's face.

Bagman entered the room, throwing the door wide open for his entrance. "Ah, I see you haven't yet told them, Harry." Oblivious to the patronizing looks of annoyance was receiving, "Amazing, absolutely astonishing. Young Harry here was named the _fourth_ Triwizard champion! This is bound to be quite exciting for you all! This has never happened before in this tournaments history." Almost genuinely excited, he looked at the confused Hufflepuff, turning his head to see the livid Krum and Karkaroff and the pissed and disbelieving Fleur and Madame Maxime. "Well, his name came out of the cup, there is now a magical contract. Harry has to compete, as the first fourth champion in history! Ah, exciting?"

"Zis boy is far too young! 'E cannot possibly compete! Eet ees preposterous!" Facing Madame Maxime Fleur continued as if Harry was nonexistent, "Tell zem, Madame! Too young, zere was an age-line to stop zis sort of thing!" Standing indignant in front of her headmistress, Fleur struck a spoiled pose. Harry would have laughed, if he wasn't in another potentially life threatening situation. Wait, shyte.

"Zis boy thinkgs zis is funny! Ha-ha, leetle Brit, sneaking your way into zis tournament, slimy!"

"I quite agree-" Cue Dumbledore's entrance to this little get together. "-Dumbledore, vat is de meaning of this?" Karkaroff's deep voice got everyone's attention. It was the first time he had spoke within the champion's chamber.

Clenching his fists, Harry glared at Fleur and her superior. A _leetle_ boy was he? Maybe he should just wipe the floor with her in this tournament and show her just what a _leetle_ girl she is. The permanent imprint of a basilisk fang tensed in his fist, a ghost feeling drifted up his arm. Like he was back in the Chamber of Secrets, grasping the acidic fang of Slytherin's favored pet. Shaking his head, shocked out of his anger, Harry moved towards Dumbledore who was conversing with the other authority figures.

"Uh, sirs, and miss. I don't suppose there's any way to withdraw from this competition? I don't really want to compete, seeing as how I didn't put my name in the cup myself-I couldn't, it being behind an age line." Licking his lips, "I'd like to forfeit if I could."

"Da, this boy he speak sense. Vere he does not belong, he leave. Let boy leave." Krum, involving himself for the first time in this ordeal stood broad shouldered and strong.

"I'm afraid Harry-I'm afraid you must compete Harry. Since your name came out of the Goblet of Fire, even if you did not put it there, you have a magical contract to compete." Apologetically, Bagman turned about, "I'm afraid that I must leave for now, paperwork to do, you know how it is. I assume you can all deal with things without me? Splendid! I'll see you all at the wand-weighing ceremony!" Coward.


End file.
